


We All Need Forgiveness

by castielanderson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-01
Updated: 2012-12-01
Packaged: 2017-11-19 23:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean struggles to find the right words to make Cas understand.  Reaction fic to 8x08.  Unbeta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We All Need Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> As you would expect, there's major talk of suicide in this fic.

Cas comes back.  

He comes back like he always does, but Dean spends six agonizing days without him.  Letting him off the hook after what he confessed to Dean may have not been the smartest idea, but Dean didn’t want to argue.  If Cas wanted to stay at that hospital for awhile, maybe find a little bit of peace for himself, Dean wasn’t going to stop him.  He deserved it.

But going through those six days without any knowledge of how Cas was doing - honestly, it was terrible, and every time Dean thought about what he had said, every time he closed his eyes and saw that wide-eyed expression on Cas’ face, tinged with that little bit of fear, every time the car got quiet and Dean could hear Cas’ small sigh, followed by, _“I’m afraid I might kill myself,”_ Dean felt his heart break into more and more pieces.  His chest would grow tight, and Sam would look at him curiously for a moment before he decided it would be better not to ask.  Dean was grateful for that.  Admittedly, he would like someone else to talk to about this, someone to ask advice from, but this wasn’t Dean’s secret to tell.  Cas had been courageous enough to confide in him, and Dean wasn’t going to spoil it.

They’re in Maryland when Cas returns.  Sam and Dean are crashing in some rundown motel in the center of town.  Dean’s been tossing and turning all night, just as he has since the first night after Cas stayed behind, so it’s not surprising when the rustle of wings wakes him.

When Dean opens his eyes, he sees that Cas is standing by the window, looking out over the dingy lawn.  A little jolt goes through Dean’s heart as he remembers that awful mental hospital Cas had to stay in.  He remembers how broken Cas’ had been then too, and thinks that maybe that Cas was better.  At least that Cas was happy.

It takes Dean a second to get the word out, but eventually, he whispers, “Cas?”

He turns, watching as Dean pushes himself up in bed, sitting up straight.  “Hello, Dean.”

Dean runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh.  “It’s been awhile,” he remarks.  “How – how are you?”

Cas looks around the room, avoiding Dean’s eyes.  “I’m fine,” he replies, and Dean presses his lips together, knowing that he’s lying.  He was the last time.

“Glad to hear it,” Dean replies gently.  Now’s not the time to push, he can tell.  Cas looks anxious and strung-out, and Dean doesn’t want to start anything with him.  He just wants Cas to relax. 

After a silent minute, he says, “Hey, Cas?”

“Yes?”

Dean scoots over, creating a space beside him in bed.  “Why don’t you come here?”

“Dean, I don’t – “

“You don’t sleep, I know,” Dean says, nodding.  “But you look exhausted, and a little peace and quiet never hurts.”

“I spent six days with Mr. Jones, Dean.  I think I’ve had enough peace – “

“Cas,” Dean says sharply, closing his eyes for a second.  “Just get over here, man.”

Castiel moves forward with a small sigh, and he sits down awkwardly next to Dean.  Dean shakes his head before sinking back down under the covers.  Eventually, Cas follows suit.  Dean’s half asleep when Cas curls up, and with moment’s hesitation, Dean turns around and drapes his arm around Cas’ waist.  He hopes Cas can understand what he’s saying.

_“Stay.  Please – just stay.”_

.

.

The next morning, Sam wakes up before either Cas or Dean.  He says nothing once they do, but over breakfast, Sam smiles at the way Cas and Dean sit close together in the booth.

.

.

Cas doesn’t run off again, not for awhile, but Dean can see how restless he is.  He’s distracted often, and he refuses to sit still.  He paces, taps his leg, and channel surfs like a maniac.  Dean would ask if it’s possible for angels to have ADHD, but he knows better than to joke about his behaviors right now. 

Instead, Dean does the best he can to help Cas relax.  He finds movies he thinks Cas will like and puts them in.  Quickly, Dean finds that Cas doesn’t like comedies.  He doesn’t quite understand the humor of movies like  _The Benchwarmers, Dumb and Dumber,_  or  _The Hangover._ He doesn’t like rom-coms, and well, Dean supposes he can’t quite relate because he’s never really been in love, and he doesn’t like sci-fi because it’s “absurdly inaccurate.”  This game only lasts about a week before Dean gives up.

They’ve just wrapped up a case, and Sam’s already found another one somewhere in Iowa, so the night before they leave, Dean rounds up the DVDs and heads back to Blockbuster.  As he’s picking them up from around the television set, there’s one that catches his eye.  Dean knows he hadn’t picked it out because he’s deliberately steered clear from anything of that nature.   He turns the case over in his hand, feeling his throat close up.   The title practically glares at him, making his blood run cold:  _To Save a Life_. 

A Christian film about a teen recovering from his ex-childhood friend’s recent suicide. 

Dean swallows hard, and then, against his better judgment, puts the movie in.  He watches as the main guy – Jake – mopes around after his friend Roger’s death.  This poor douchey teenager can’t quite wrap his head around why his friend decided to end his life, but flashbacks show how Roger tried to reach out for help, tried to tell people, but felt like no one was listening. 

Dean feels a small pang, and he’s so,  _so_  grateful that Cas at least opened up.

As the movie continues, Dean watches as Jake does his best to help out another lonely kid named Johnny who attends his school, using his new formed knowledge to help the kid live through his evident depression. 

The movie finishes on a rather hopeful note, but Dean couldn’t feel more hopeless.  The screen goes black, and Dean hangs his head, his heart heavy .  He doesn’t know why Cas decided to watch this movie exactly, but horrible ideas emerge in his mind anyway.

Dean sincerely hopes that in this case, he’s Jake and Cas is Johnny, because he can’t even bear the thought of Cas ending up like Roger.  That’s the one ending he won’t accept.

.

.

In Iowa, Dean takes a night off to go drink, but he ends up staying sober when Cas agrees to go with him.  The place is small and dumpy, the customers a bit sketchy.  However, none can quite match up to Cas.  He nearly drains the place of its alcohol, and Dean loses count of his drinks after forty.  The bartender seems a little suspicious, but he lets it go when Dean assures him Cas hasn’t had more than five beers (“You seem really overworked; you’re probably mixing a few of us up”).

Cas is drunk out of his mind when Dean finally drags him out and dumps him in the front seat of the Impala.  They head back to the hotel, and the minute they show up back in the room, Sam opts out, letting them deal with whatever business they’ve been hiding from him.  Dean thanks him as he leaves, promising that he’ll get around to explaining some time soon.

Dean helps Cas to bed and then digs in his duffel to find painkillers.  Cas is passed out already by the time Dean sets them on the night stand.  Chest tight, he turns out the lamp, eyes grazing over Cas’ face.  His eyebrows are creased together, mouth pulled down into a frown.  Even in sleep, he’s still distressed, and it makes Dean’s heart ache.

In the morning, Dean pretends he didn’t hear Cas mumbling in his sleep about what a terrible child of God he is, about how ashamed and awful he feels, and how badly he wishes he had the strength to drive his sword into his own chest.

.

.

After Cas’ escapade at the bar, he ditches Sam and Dean for awhile.

He’s gone for another five days, and during that time, Dean starts drinking before one.

.

.

On the fifth day, Sam corners Dean, demanding to know what’s going on.  Dean sets his bottle down with a sigh, reaching up and rubbing his hand down his tired face.

“I don’t know if I can tell you, Sam,” he answers honestly.  On one hand, he thinks Sam deserves to know what’s going on, but on the other hand, if Cas hasn’t told Sam anything, Dean doesn’t think it’s right of him to tell.

“You can,” Sam urges, looking at him seriously.  “Dean, what – whatever is going on, I deserve to know.  I mean, the last time Cas got drunk like that was after Joshua told him God had up and left.  And maybe you don’t notice, but whenever something’s wrong with Cas, something’s wrong with you, and I’m not just gonna sit around and wait for you two to stop PMS-ing.  Seriously, just tell me what’s going on, Dean.”

Dean heaves a deep, exaggerated sigh, sitting up straight. 

“Sam,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut tight.  “I – just don’t let Cas know I told you this, alright?”  Dean pinches the bridge of his nose before opening his eyes again.  “I don’t think he wants anyone to know.  I mean, I’m fucking lucky he told me, okay?  We can’t afford to push him away right now.”

Sam nods.   “I won’t.  I promise,” he says quietly.

“Alright,” Dean says, pressing his lips together.  “Well – do you remember that case we had a few weeks ago – the one with Mr. Jones and all the cartoon shit?”

Sam nods again.

“Well, while you were out and Cas and I were back at the hotel, we – we had a conversation.”

“And?” Sam asks, prodding.

“I – I asked Cas if he’d zap up to heaven and check if something weird was going on, but he refused to go.  He freaked out on me when I kept pushing, so I asked him to talk to me – tell me what the hell was going on with him, and he did.” 

Dean looks up, and Sam can see his eyes are a little glassy. 

“What’d he tell you?” Sam asks softly.

Dean huffs out a breath and rubs his fingers over his mouth before he says, “He told me he was afraid he might kill himself.”

Sam’s eyes widen, and Dean bites down hard on his lip.

“I know I’m probably being a major hypocrite, but fuck, Sammy – I – I’ve been so fucking scared he might actually do something, and I – I just wouldn’t even know how to deal with that.  I’ve been trying hard to steer him away from that kind of thinking, but God knows I’ve never been able to do that myself.  I guess the best I can do is just hope it never comes to that.”

Sam doesn’t quite know what to say, so after a quiet few moments, he gets up and grabs a couple of beers from the fridge.  As he sits down again, he hands one to Dean, saying, “Don’t worry, okay?  Cas has to know we care about him, and we’re not going to let him kill himself, alright?  Whatever it takes.”

Dean says nothing as he pops the cap off his beer and takes a hearty swig.   He almost wants to laugh at Sam’s naivety, because he knows that deep down, nothing’s ever going to help.   Dean’s wanted to kill himself for almost twenty years now, but he keeps going because he finds little things to keep living for – a long, winding road and a mixtape that crackles when he plays it from the Impala’s speakers.  And bigger things – his pain-in-the-ass little brother, and a guardian angel who’s now shattered into pieces.

Dean can’t make Cas see those things.  Cas has to do it all on his own, but Dean will pray every night to a lost God if it means Cas will stay with him.

.

.

 Cas returns – just like always.  He says nothing, pretends like nothing happened, and Dean goes along with it, because still, he can’t find it in himself to push Cas into speaking.  Dean knows that speaking up isn’t always easy, but if there’s someone there to listen, it makes things easier.  So that’s what Dean does.  He asks Cas how’s feeling from time to time, if he’s got anything on his mind.  Cas always tells Dean that he’s fine, and though Dean doesn’t buy it, he won’t let Cas know he believes otherwise.

They fall into a pattern again, and nearly every night, Cas slips into Dean’s bed and lays next to him.  Some nights he sleeps, some nights he doesn’t.

One night, he dreams, and he mumbles in his sleep again.  Dean thinks he might be dreaming about Heaven, because it sounds like he’s pleading with someone, begging to let him redeem himself.  Again, he confesses how much he wishes he could take it all back, how much the experience still haunts him, and how much he hates himself because of what he did.

It isn’t until his Dean’s name slips into the slurred words that he realizes Cas is dreaming of his own rejection.

In the morning, Dean snuggles close to Cas.  As Cas wakes up, Dean murmurs something in his ear.

“Hey, Cas – I’m gonna let you in on a little secret.  When I was down in Hell, I tortured a lot of souls – so many that I lost count.  And when I did that, I broke the first seal.”

Cas seems confused at first, but after a moment, he understands.  He doesn’t say anything, but he looks at Dean for just a fraction of a second, appreciation burning in his eyes.

.

.

Cas spends a lot of time with John’s journal when he’s around.  Whether he’s using it for knowledge or distraction, Dean doesn’t know, but he appreciates the way Cas sometimes smiles when he reads it.

It isn’t until Cas has gone through nearly all of the pages that Dean asks what he’s always smirking at.

Cas answers, “You seemed to have been a very intelligent and playful child,” and Dean can’t help but smile back.

.

.

Cas seems to go strong for awhile, seems to fall into his place beside Sam and Dean, but everything good has to come to an end sometime.  They see Crowley again when they’re working on a case in Texas.  There’s a fight of course, and in the end, the lines are still drawn the same.  However, as they depart with a promise to meet again, Crowley has one last blow to deliver.

He tells Cas how Samandriel had died, cursing Cas’ name for the destruction he had brought the angels.  And just to add insult to injury, he tells Cas that he needs to build up his army, because Heaven is going through a stage of reconstruction.  They’re cleaning up after Cas’ mess and preparing an army.

“And I’m not quite sure where you stand yet, to be honest,” Crowley says, looking over Cas.  “Friend or foe – I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

He disappears, and Dean’s realizes what his plan had been the second after he’s gone.  Dean’s eyes lock on Cas, who’s looking down and hiding his face.  Crowley wants Cas out of the game, but he doesn’t want deal with it himself.  Having the angel be his own destruction must seem like the perfect plan, but Dean won’t let that happen.

“Cas,” Dean says, stern, “Let’s get out of here.”

But it’s too late. 

There’s the sound of wings flapping, and Cas is gone.

.

.

Dean slams on the breaks, and the car screeches to a stop.  Sam turns, looking at Dean incredulously as he stutters out, “Dean?  What – why are you – what’s go - ?”

“It’s no use, Sam,” Dean says, yanking his keys from the ignition.  He opens the car door and steps out, slamming it behind him.  Sam follows, getting out on his side.  “He’s a fucking angel, Sam.  He could be anywhere by now.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Sam says quietly, and Dean swallows hard, shaking his head to himself.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Dean says, turning around and facing him.

“Yes you do,” Sam says with so much confidence that Dean almost believes him.  “Look, honestly?  I don’t think Cas would do anything without saying goodbye.  If you just prayed to him, and gave him time, I’m sure he’d answer you.”  He sighs.  “Maybe – maybe you should just go off on your own.  You know, I don’t think Cas wants to talk about this kind of thing with me.  We’ll – we’ll split up, Dean.  I’ll keep looking around right here in town, and you – you just go off wherever you need to and call him, okay?”

Dean doesn’t reply, but Sam goes off anyway, walking away from the car and down the sidewalk.  Dean stands and watches for a good minute before he has enough sense to get back in the car and  _go_.  He’s not sure where’s headed exactly, but eventually he pulls into a church parking lot, and that’s when he realizes the voice in his head is praying to God, asking him to come through just one more time for his son.  Asking him to give Dean the strength to do this and Castiel the strength to listen and understand.

Dean parks the car and heads inside, hoping desperately that Cas will answer, that he’ll stop running and let Dean talk to him.  Taking a deep breath, Dean heads into the chapel, looking up at the ceiling and putting himself in the right mind to pray to Cas.  He focuses, the image of Cas filling his mind, and he stumbles around the words a bit before he opens his mouth to try to say them.

But he doesn’t need to, because as he looks up the pews, he finds someone sitting in the front, a tan trenchcoat hanging around their shoulders.  Dean hurries forward, breath catching in his chest.  Once he gets close enough, his heart drops, because the site that greets him is less than reassuring.  Cas is holding his sword, pressing it to his skin and running his finger along the blade.

“Cas,” Dean about shouts, but he doesn’t even flinch. 

Dean walks right up to him, and leans down.  Slowly, he reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Cas’ right wrist. His heart is raging against his ribs, and Dean feels like he might be sick.  However, he keeps his voice steady as he continues -

“Let go,” he says softly.  “Cas, give it to me.”

Slowly, Cas releases his grip, and Dean takes the sword, setting it on the ground behind him.  When he turns back, Cas still refuses to look at him.  He looks preoccupied, and Dean can guess what’s happening.  He’s had to fight off those voices many, many times himself.

“Cas,” Dean repeats as he takes a seat next to him.  “Cas, look at me.  Hey – hey!  Look at me.”

Eyes flickering shut for a second, Cas turns his head, and his eyes find Dean’s.

“You gotta stop this, man,” Dean says, voice heavy.  “Cas, you – you can’t do this to yourself, okay?  You just can’t.”

Cas stares at him for a moment, expression blank.  And then the worst thing happens – his eyebrows crease and he looks just so lost, so  _hurt,_  and all Dean wants to do is wipe it all away.  He wants to see Cas smile, see him laugh.  Dean can’t stand seeing the devastated look on Castiel’s face, can’t stand the way he’s hunched over, caving in on himself and making himself look small, can’t stand the way that Cas’ eyes are having trouble focusing on Dean – they shift away every so often, and Dean knows that he’s being distracted by some surely awful thoughts.

Taking a shaky breath, Dean scoots closer, until their knees are touching and Dean can  _feel_ that Cas is still there, still breathing, still alive.

“Cas, I’m going to tell you a story,” he says quietly.  “But you have to promise me you won’t repeat a word of this to Sam.  He doesn’t know this happened, and I don’t want him to.  He doesn’t need that kind of weight on shoulders.”

Cas nods, and it’s a jerky motion.

Carefully, Dean goes on.  “When I was twenty-two, Sam left for Stanford.  I can still remember the night he left clear as day.  His plane left that evening – six-forty-two, and I remember him wanting to get there early.  He offered to let me drive him, but I wouldn’t.  I didn’t want the goodbye to hurt even worse.  Before he left, he got in a huge fight with my dad – it was a goddamn blowout, and I was stuck in the middle, and once Sam was gone.  Once he slammed that door behind him, my dad went crazy.”  Dean takes another shaky breath.  “He – he went off, yelling at me and telling me that it was all my fault Sam left, as if I didn’t feel bad enough.  Eventually, he took off, and once he did, so did I.  I kept driving and driving until I ran out of gas and had to pull into a motel parking lot.  I checked in with the intention of sleeping, but once I got into the room I started pacing.  And God, I don’t even remember exactly what went through my mind, but it wouldn’t stop.  All I could think about was failing Sam, failing my father – how both of them had left me, and once the sun rose up, I made my decision.  I reached into my bag and pulled out the bottle of painkillers, and I took all of them.”

His voice cracks a little, and he presses his lips together, waiting a moment before continuing.

“It was the maid who found me.  She called an ambulance, and that night I woke up in the hospital.  I wouldn’t let them call my dad.  I spent the seventy-two hours alone, and there was a lot of time to think.  And yeah, it sucked at the time that I hadn’t succeeded, but now I’m so glad I didn’t.  Because then I couldn’t have been there for my stupid little brother.  I couldn’t have been there for my dad, or Bobby, or all those innocent people Sam and I save on a daily basis.  I couldn’t do my job, and no matter how much life fucking sucks, I have to keep going.  And so do you, Cas.”

He looks up, staring Cas straight in the eye as he says, “Killing yourself isn’t worth it.  Because the second you do – the second that sword goes through your heart, you’re gonna regret it.”

Cas is shaking his head before Dean even finishes his sentence, and Dean’s heart just about falls to the floor.

“I won’t,” Cas says quietly.  “I have to make things right, Dean.  I can’t do it if I’m alive.  There’s a reason people believe in the death penalty, and I understand it now.  I need to pay for what I did, and this is it.”

“It’s not,” Dean protests.  “Cas, you – you can make things right some other way, okay?  But you can’t do this.  You – you said you wanted to stop running, well,  _stop_.  Cas, if you kill yourself, you won’t ever stop running.”

“Dean,” Cas says, and it’s clear he’s irritated now.  “You don’t understand.   Pretending I can escape – that I can keep living this life without paying for what I did – that’s running away.  I can stop.  I can finally make peace.  Please, Dean, you have to understand.”

“Well, I don’t,” Dean says.  “I’ll never understand, because this – this isn’t worth it, Cas.  Yes, you made a mistake.  You made a huge mistake, but so does everyone else.  The guy down the street?  He cheated on his wife.  Me?  I broke the first seal.  Sam?  He freed Lucifer, but we didn’t give up.  We kept going because it’s what we had to do.  We had to let go of the past and make the future right, and you can’t do that if you’re dead.  So fucking stop this, Cas.”  Dean’s talking through clenched teeth now, and he can feel his eyes burning. 

“I forgive you, Cas.  I forgave you a long time ago.  And I get, man.  I get feeling worthless.  I get feeling like you’re the biggest fuck-up there is, but you’re enough, Cas.  You’re not worthless, and you’ve got enough in you to keep going and do the right thing.”

Still.

_Still_  – Cas shakes his head.

“Dean, stop,” he says softly.  “Please.  You’re only wasting your time.  There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.  I’ve made my decision, Dean, and I just – I need to thank you before I go.  You’ve taught me a lot, but my time is up.”

Dean laughs, nearly hysterical.  “There’s nothing I can say, huh?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, but instead, he reaches up, cupping Cas’ face in his hand.  And without hesitation, he leans forward, pressing his lips to Cas’ own, and he prays so goddamn hard for Cas to listen, for Cas to understand what he’s telling him.  He pulls back just slightly, whispering against Cas’ mouth –

“Stop using this penance shit as a way to justify the way you feel about yourself.  Cas, I know – I know what self-hatred feels like and this is it.  You have to stop, Cas.   You have to forgive yourself.”

And at last, Cas gives in. 

His voice is shaky when he replies, “I don’t think I can.”

“Then just trust me,” Dean says.  “Trust me when I tell you you don’t deserve any of this.  You don’t deserve to hate yourself like this.  It’s been two years, Cas, and you’ve done so much to redeem yourself.  You’ve gotta hang it up, buddy, and move on.”

Cas shakes his head, but this time it’s not in defiance. 

It’s in defeat. 

Dean has never seen Cas cry before, but right now, Cas is entering a major breakdown as he falls forward, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder.  Gently, Dean wraps his arms around Cas, holding onto him tightly.  He closes his eyes, pressing his cheek against the top of Cas’ head.

“You’ll get through this,” he says softly, and then corrects himself.  “ _We’ll_  get through this.”


End file.
